Baby E's first birthday

My second baby boy is turning one!! I almost can't believe it's been a year... but also, what a long year it has been. As they say, the days/weeks go by slowly but the months and years breeze by. 

I've been reflecting on the last year and now, specifically, am reflecting on the day he was born. Since I took a break from blogging, I figured I would share his birth story!

Baby E was, obviously, a COVID baby. We'd been stuck mostly inside, as I found out I was pregnant in March 2020. With only some socially distanced trips to the beach, where we sat across from our neighbors in the sweltering Florida sun, and some daily walks around our neighborhood, I was feeling really...stuck. Stuck inside. Stuck in our state. Stuck on the couch some days, as once I was really big, it was hard to roll myself out of a sitting or laying position. I could feel my little busy baby a lot, though, kicking and rolling around A LOT. 

Celebrating Halloween at the Tampa Zoo 

Heading out on a walk in our neighborhood 

One of our beach trips as a family

We had a difficult time coming up with his name. Really, A named him after watching a ton of Star Wars Rebels, and calling his brother after one of the main characters for a while; it just grew on us. 

Later in the morning of October 27th, I was supposed to have a weekly prenatal appointment and an ultrasound. But around 4am, I woke up with cramps. I drank some water and hubs gave me some back rubs, and I was able to go back to sleep for a few hours. Once he got up for work, I was really feeling some cramping coming in waves and let hubs know I thought I was in labor.

Since I hadn't gone through laboring at home with A, I wasn't sure if I was in labor enough to head to the hospital, and with the COVID restrictions, I didn't want to go too early. I went into A's room to get him ready for the day and chat with him about what might happen, and we had a really sweet, snuggly moment. I got us some oatmeal for breakfast and started bouncing on my ball as I called hubs and told him he'd better route his leave paperwork, as I was pretty sure I was in labor. He started heading back home from base, and a few minutes after he arrived and changed, we were on our way to the hospital. 

By the time we were in the car, I was really feeling some intense contractions. I hadn't been timing them accurately or regularly because, well, I was actually pretty deep into labor, apparently. 

When we arrived at the hospital, hubs dropped me off at the entrance and went to go park and bring in our bags. Again due to COVID procedures, things were different, and the desk I was told to go to was behind a long line that snaked through saran-wrap looking line separators. I was breathing pretty intensely, though, and the woman in front of me asked if I was in labor. When I said yes, she started directing the rest of the line to get out of my way. The front desk staff realized I was there, and directed me to a side area where I was sat in a wheelchair and swiftly carted up to triage for labor & delivery. I was given the standard hospital attire and left alone to change; meanwhile, hubs arrived with our bags. Getting dressed was tough, because I was in a lot of pain, like doubling over, then stretching up, just trying to find a comfortable way to exist. I felt like I needed to use the bathroom badly, but also, squatting over the toilet felt extremely uncomfortable. Somehow, I was still concerned I wasn't far enough in labor to stay admitted!

The triage staff arrived with a midwife to check me and decide if I should be admitted and given a labor room. At this point I wasn't feeling super coherent, and I remember looking at hubs for clarification. I heard someone say something about the number nine, and I felt they rushed to keep me laid down and transferred to a room down the hall. At first I assumed they were just discussing the time, since it had been a little before 9am when we arrived. When I looked at hubs questioningly, he patiently explained to me, "babe, you are about to have the baby!" 

For some reason this was shocking news to me. A nurse had asked me about my pain management plan, if I wanted an epidural. Hubs was there to gently remind me I planned to do it without any drugs, but I was wracked with contraction pain and whined that I wanted it, now. My body was instinctively rolling to my side, it just felt right to turn that way. A nurse was trying to draw my blood and ended up getting a tiny butterfly needle into my hand (thanks for the serious bruising!) I understood that I hadn't gotten my COVID test prior to being admitted as was planned, but there was a midwife readying herself between my legs, which were being yanked into stirrups. Later, I would regret not being able to communicate that I didn't want to be flat on my back for labor; my body was literally rolling itself over and trying to get me into position, I think hands and knees, but I felt helpless to resist what was happening to me. Turns out, that discussion about the ~number nine~ meant I'd shown up 9 cm dilated.

It felt like immediately, Baby E was ready to be pushed out. These moments made me so grateful I'd had pain management with A, because the whole "ring of fire" is the realest way to describe what I was feeling. I was sure I was not going to make it through this. Apparently I was cursing and saying that I didn't want it to happen, and hubs was doing his best not to laugh at that while trying to be supportive of my process. 

But it was happening and I felt every single molecule of his head crowning, then shoving through me. The midwife was telling me to hold before pushing his shoulders, that I was tearing. Anyone who has given birth knows though, you are at the mercy of your body and instincts. I felt my body push through and tear until his shoulders were through, and the rest of his body slid out, and I finally felt a little relief of the pressure. Before I knew it, I was reaching down to hold him and bringing him up to my chest, wrapping and holding him tight, asking hubs, "is everything okay? Is he okay?" (He was fine, I'm not sure why I was worried). I felt shaky and was still contracting, until the placenta was delivered, and the midwife let me know she had to start stitching me up. I know she gave me a shot of localized numbing shots, but I felt every tug and piercing of that needle... not to mention that I was told to hold still during it and while I was given a COVID test and had to give more blood. Honestly, the most painful hour of my life occurred between 9:20 and 10:20am that day, and all I could do to distract myself was stare at my baby, who was healthily wailing on my chest. Baby E was born at 9:35am, at 9lbs, 2oz, 21 inches long.

After laboring in a mask, enduring COVID procedures, and many sugar tests for Baby E (he was born large and his blood sugar was a little low), we were more than ready to check out of the labor ward of the hospital about 24 hours later. We were able to leave early in the afternoon the next day with our little guy securely ensconced in the car seat. We were anxious to introduce him to A, who was at home with my mother and father-in-law, and get settled at home. It was a lovely moment, full of joy and warmth and love. 

Now, a year later, I look at my second son's face and wonder where the time went. Not that I necessarily miss the infant stage, but I truly felt that the tiny newborn baby stage would never end, and now...it has. He's a year old, toddling already, babbling and doing little dances when he hears music, developing a personality of his own. We love our sweet little addition to our family, and can't wait to see what the next year looks like with him in our lives!

-Big A⚓